Death

Going to sleep, I cross my hands on my chest.   
They will place my hands like this.   
It will look as though I am flying into myself.

Bill Knott, "Death" from Asheville Poetry Review 10, no. 1.  Copyright 2003 by Bill Knott.  Reprinted by permission of the author.
Source: Never Lend Your Umbrella to a Submarine and Other Poems (2005)
More Poems by Bill Knott